


Oil and Water

by mistyzeo



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bath Sex, Bathroom Sex, Fingerfucking, Frottage, M/M, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sherlock Holmes filled the bath only half full.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oil and Water

**Author's Note:**

> For [mydwynter](http://mydwynter.livejournal.com/)'s prompt, "mixing oil and water," in the [come-at-once](http://come-at-once.livejournal.com) 24 hour porn challenge. Thanks are due to [snogandagrope](http://snogandagrope.tumblr.com/) who kept me company and made suggestions as I wrote. :D In other news, who titled this fic?

Sherlock Holmes filled the bath only half full. This was, in itself, somewhat unusual. Since the installation of our brand new copper piping system, Holmes was inclined to bathe several times a week, and always with a great deal of pomp and ceremony. We still went, on occasion, to the Turkish baths together, but the bath at home was his favorite pleasurable experience. 

Well, one of his favorites.

I had noticed that the water had shut off rather earlier than I’d expected, but as no analysis of this was forthcoming from the wash room itself, I let the matter go. Perhaps I’d misjudged the time, that was all. For a quarter of an hour or so, as I read my book, I half-listened to the placid sounds of Holmes bathing: the splash of the water, his quiet humming. I imagined him coming to bed warm and sleepy, his skin still damp, his muscles relaxed and his whole body pliant. My stomach was warm with anticipation.

Then there was a clatter, and Holmes’s voice rang out, 'Watson! Watson, come here!'

I jumped from my chair, convinced something horrible had happened, and burst into the washroom. Holmes was sitting in the bath, his wet hair sticking up in several directions, one long arm stretched out fruitlessly for the bar of soap that now rested on the floor mere inches outside his reach.

He looked up at me, sheepish. His face was rosy from the steam and heat of the room. 'I say,' Holmes said, 'could you do me a favor?'

'Was that your great emergency?' I asked, picking up the soap and handing it to him. 'You scared me half to death.'

'I am sorry,' he replied, applying the bar of soap to his underarms. He looked smug rather than apologetic, and I narrowed my eyes. 'Well,' he went on, 'since you’re in here, should you care to join me?'

Ah. I worried sometimes that he did not seem to apply himself very hard when it came to manipulating me. I wondered if that was the result of laziness on his part, or easiness on mine. Now I saw that the water level in the bath was quite low, only reaching the bottom of his ribs, where normally he would fill it to the absolute brim and sink down until his chin was wet and the caps of his knees emerged. But with the water down low, I could admire the strength of his shoulders, the broadness of his chest, the soft pink of his nipples. His legs were exposed from mid-thigh to mid-calf, and the light refracted through water distorted the length of his toes until they were positively alien. In the valley of his thighs and his belly, his prick was half-hard, buoyed up by the water.

He reached out with one hand to catch the back of my knee and bring me closer. With the other, he took himself in hand, massaging gently and causing himself to swell further. He looked up into my face, smirking, and I leaned down to kiss him.

His lips were soft and warm, slightly damp from the humid air, and he tasted of nothing save the water itself. I braced myself on the sides of the tub, and he shifted the hand on my knee to the back of my neck, leaving a damp print on the back of my trouser leg.

'Yes, all right,' I murmured, thinking of our land lady downstairs and weighing the likelihood that she, or anyone else, would come looking for us. I decided it was low, and began to undress.

There was enough room in the tub for me to sit, scrunched up, between Holmes’s thighs. Even when I leaned back against his chest, my knees were nearly against the far wall. But now with both of us in occupation, the water reached nearly to my underarms, and when I lay my head on Holmes’s shoulders, his palm on my sternum was beneath the surface. The water was warm, not as warm as Holmes usually liked it, but the perfect temperature for me. I felt the tension of the day slipping away as my body relaxed.

'You had this in mind,' I accused, rubbing my thumbs up and down the insides of his knees.

'I will not deny it,' he said, kissing my temple. 'It seemed unlikely that we would be interrupted, given the weather, and you, my dear, are worth the risk.' I felt him smile, his cheek against mine. I let go of one knee to reach back to touch his face, and then turned mine to meet him for another kiss over my shoulder.

It quickly grew heated, and Holmes slid the hand on my chest across to pluck at one of my nipples. I groaned, clutching at him where I could reach. I have always been terribly, frightfully sensitive, and Holmes often uses it to his advantage. I squirmed, my cock stiffening beneath the water, while Holmes bit at my lip and teased me.

'Let me wash you,' he said, when my chest ached and my skin tingled. I moaned and leaned forwards, reaching for the far end of the tub. I hung my head, inches above the surface of the water, and breathed the steam deep into my lungs.

Holmes rubbed wet, soapy hands across my shoulders, and began to knead. He found all the tender places, all the tension, in my muscles, and massaged them with a skill born of familiarity. I rolled my neck back and forth, sighing, as he pressed his fingers into the back of my ribs, and groaned aloud when he squeezed my shoulders and upper arms. His hands are strong and deft, and their affectionate touch turned my heart over in my chest.

The touch became more amorous again after Holmes sluiced water across my back and began to press kisses to the places he had rubbed. His hands wandered down my arms to link our fingers together briefly on the rim of the tub, and then down the outsides of my thighs and up my belly. He didn’t touch my cock, but he hesitated for a fraction of a second at my navel and I knew he wanted to.

'Lean back again,' he said in my ear, his voice barely above a whisper. I obeyed, and he washed my front, rubbing the dwindling bar of soap across my pectorals and down my torso. I kissed what I could reach of his cheek and jaw, and he made a little noise of pleasure. He let the soap go, and it floated the to the surface. He rubbed his hands clean on my abdomen, parted my thighs with his palms and gripped me roughly, and then pulled away.

'Hush,' he said, in response to my protestation. He was drying his hands behind me on the towel he’d left on a chair, and then he picked up the jar of petroleum jelly. My pulse soared.

When he was settled again, and I was comfortably cradled between his knees, Holmes handed me the jar and dipped his fingers in. I spread my legs as far as I was able, crammed in as we were, and he wrapped his other arm around my chest to ground me as he slid his slicked hand beneath the water. I tipped my head back against his shoulder with a sigh. I could feel his heart beating.

He bypassed my prick and pressed two fingers unerringly against my entrance. I jumped: under water, the sensation was heightened, every nerve more sensitive. His touch almost felt cool in contrast to the heat of the bath. I let out a breath and he pushed in, meeting only the most fleeting resistance.

'Good?' he asked.

My hands slipped on the edge of the bath, and I scrambled to regain my grip in order to press myself into his touch. There wasn’t room in the tub for me to really get him as deep as I wanted. He seemed to realise this as well, and pulled out again, much to my chagrin.

'Put your leg up, there, yes,' he said, guiding my right leg to hook over the edge of the bath. I was dripping on the floor, but I couldn’t bring myself to care much as he eased his fingers back inside my body. His arm across my chest held me securely, and I reached back to hold onto his shoulder.

The new angle made it easier to kiss him as well, and I pulled him down to meet me. The water was rippling with the slow movement of his hand, working his fingers in and out of me. Against my back I could feel the hard press of his cock. His hips moved fractionally in counterpoint to his hand between my legs.

'Slowly,' I warned, breathless. 'You’ll make a mess.'

Holmes groaned and nipped the corner of my jaw. 'You’ll be the death of me,' he said, bringing his hips almost to a halt and pushing his hand as deep as it would go. My back arched, and I clung to him, my damp hands slipping on damp skin. I tried to spread my legs even further, and my cock head dragged against the inside of his wrist, my foreskin pulling back to expose the sensitive glans. I swore under my breath.

'God, look at you,' Holmes said, his mouth smearing soft against my cheek bone. 'You’re perfectly delicious when you’re desperate.'

'Damn you!' I replied, and I felt his laugh rumble through his chest. He pressed me closer to his body, kissing my face fondly, even as he flexed his fingers inside me and made me twist with pleasure. Now the risk of splashing was my fault, and I struggled to stay still. Holmes began to torture me further by rolling my other, untouched nipple between his unoccupied fingers.

'Touch me,' I begged, 'Holmes!'

'Ah ah,' he chided, pinching me sharply, 'not yet.' He kissed my ear.

I moaned piteously, pushing up into his hand. Two fingers was not enough. 'Please,' I said.

He divined my need as surely as I had spoken it aloud, and eased a third finger in alongside the other two. My muscles tensed and squeezed, and we both groaned. His hips had begun to move again, rubbing his prick against the small of my back. I rocked with him, wishing there were space enough here for him to fuck me. We could do it, I thought, if I got up on my knees and he knelt behind me. But he held me fast, pinned between his fingers and his forearm, and I could not-- and did not want to-- break free.

Holmes worked three fingers inside me, rubbing his middle digit across my sweet spot, careful never to press too hard. I was trembling, panting, and I braced myself against the far end of the tub, my legs protesting the strain. I was spread too wide, and I couldn’t hold it, but, God! If I let go I would lose the sensation and that would ruin me.

'Tell me,' Holmes said in my ear.

'Close,' I replied, squeezing my eyes shut. 'Oh, so close.'

He let go of my chest and gripped my cock underwater. I spasmed, hips flexing, and felt a wave crest over the side of the tub. Holmes pushed his prick against my arse, rubbing frantically, fucking me with short, sharp movements and stroking me firmly. My voice caught in my throat, and the pleasure and the urgency coalesced inside me. My arse lifted clean off the bottom of the tub as I came, shuddering hard.

Holmes’s answering moan echoed off the tiles of our washroom, and I felt him tense and jerk behind me. His fingers stabbed deep, and he bit down on the back of my shoulder, sending another pulse of ecstasy through me. We clung to one another, gasping, and then went limp, sinking back into the cooling water of the bath.

I winced as Holmes eased his hand out of my body, and half-turned in his arms to kiss him. He cupped my face and kissed back, warm lips moving tenderly against mine. His hair had nearly dried, and when I slid wet hands into it he shivered and hugged me tighter.

When we pulled apart, Holmes wrinkled his nose in distaste at the evidence of our spending. 'Out you get,' he said, pushing me upright. I stumbled out of the bathtub on weak legs, and stood shivering on the wet tile floor, afraid to move lest I slip and crack my head open. Holmes climbed out after me and wrapped me in his towel, murmuring, 'There you are, my dear man.' I reached out and wrapped him in it as well, holding him close to me. The towel didn’t quite reach, and I palmed his bare arse affectionately.

'You wicked fellow,' I said, kissing his chin. 'It was all a ploy.'

'Hardly,' Holmes protested. 'I only wanted to enjoy my bath the best way I knew how, which was with you in it.'


End file.
